


The Things Sansa Will Not Tell Him

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Light BDSM, Smut, Spanking, king in the north, slightly kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: There are some things that Sansa will not tell Jon, despite them now being close. Her strange dreams being one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reached a few tricky bits with my other fics so wanted to do something completely different with this one shot (well not completely different - there is smut after all)!

There are some things that she just will not tell him.

Jon and Sansa have grown close since taking back Winterfell. They've spent nearly every waking hour in each others company. Even as King in the North he looks to her for council before anyone else.

Yes, there is a tremendous amount of trust and understanding in their new relationship. But, there are some things that Sansa will never tell him.

The list starts with how she somehow thinks him more attractive with his scars. He's not some soft southern knight who doesn't know real battle - doesn't know the true price of living. She wouldn't tell him because somehow she thinks it makes her sound slightly macabre and she knows some of his scars carry all too raw emotions for him.

She wouldn't tell him that whenever any of his Free Folk friends mention his Wildling lover - the girl with hair kissed by fire, who was so enticing to honourable Jon that she could make him forget his vows - that a strange feeling in her stomach starts to swell. It feels something akin to jealousy - but that can't be it surely? Sansa couldn't be jealous of her half-brother's past lover? Could she?

She won't tell him how she cherishes how tactile he has become with her. They are of the North and it is not their way, but somehow Jon has turned from a brooding, stern-faced northerner to a man who touches her gently and often. A hand-hold, a squeeze of her arm or a brush of his fingers on her cheek as he tucks an out of place strand of copper back behind her ear. After Sansa's experiences with men's touch, one would think she would flinch and sink away, but she loves his touches - they do funny things to her gut.

The fourth and most guarded thing that Sansa in no way, shape or form will tell Jon is about her recurring dreams.

It all started off innocently enough, one evening, after their supper, he was sat reading some of the less important scrolls he'd received that day and she was in her usual place, with her embroidery hoop and needle in hand. They were both by the hearth in their combined solar. The cold night winds licked the outside castle walls but they were warm and cozy in a comfortable silence beside the popping fire.

Sansa was working on something more intricate and delicate for herself, having spent the last few projects patching up Jon's clothes, she felt the need to express her creative femininity. She glared at the needle and thread in her hands and how, try as she might, she could not recreate the image she had in her mind's-eye onto her new handkerchief.

Sansa was trying to stitch a representation of her dear wolf, Lady, but try as she may, there was something that was stopping her from catching her likeness.

After several bouts of huffing and unstitching, she'd had enough and the embroidery hoop along with its half depicted direwolf went hurtling through the air, barely skimmed past Jon's head, to land noisily on the stone floor a good few feet away from them.

Jon looked up at her, half shocked, half amused.

"Don't give me that look Jon" she said crossing her arms over her chest "I'm just getting frustrated is all" she huffed once more.

Jon was unable to mask his amusement. "You know" he started as he put down his scroll and stood to make his way to the discarded embroidery hoop "it's technically treasonous to attempt assault upon the king's body". He bent to pick up the hoop and made his way back to the hearth, handing the offending article back to Sansa. "I could have you severely punished my Lady" Jon's eyes were peppered with teasing.

Sansa swallowed thickly which only seemed to make Jon chuckle. "It's getting late Sansa, perhaps we should be for bed and you can attempt your craft again tomorrow". She nodded in response.

That night was the first of the recurring dreams. They always started the same...

_"I could have you punished my Lady" Jon echoed from the evening. Only this time, he was sat in the middle of the overstuffed couch in front of the fire. He licked his lips and tapped his thigh with his palm whilst seeming to look deep into Sansa's soul - knowing what she wanted._

_She liked him in leather breeches, they accentuated his muscled legs, she thought - as she crawled across his lap, lowering her body onto his wide spread thighs._

_Sansa was laid across Jon with her upper body and legs resting either side of him on the couch, her rear propped up on his lap._

_Without a word, Jon peeled away the layers of skirts from her legs, bunching them in a firm grip at the small of her back, revealing her silk clad backside._

_She feels his palm smooth across the curve of her rear and then a couple of fingers hook into the top of her smallclothes and drag them down her thighs, revealing her quivering flesh._

_"If you take your punishment well you will be rewarded" he growls huskily. Sansa feels the vibrations of his voice, warm at the side of her body._

_"Yes my King" she whispers with anticipation._

_Jon grasps one fleshy cheek and then the other before talking once more. "Then we should begin, are you ready"? Sansa whimpers and then nods._

_The first firm smack of his palm stings across one round cheek. Sansa jolts slightly as she lets slip a cry. It was a curious pain - numb and pleasurable. There's something strange about the feeling of being reduced to a naughty child that excited her. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, preparing to enjoy the next contact._

_She manages not to yelp or cry too loudly but does gasp and draw in breath over her teeth a few times at the following few spanks. Sansa can feel the jiggle of her reddening flesh beneath Jon's hands and wonders if it pleases him._

_It does not last long until Jon is now smoothing his hands over her sensitive bottom, caressing and stroking that which he has just stung._

_"Do I deserve my reward my King"? She asks over her shoulder._

_"You do indeed" Jon rumbles in response._

_Sansa parts her legs slightly - her movement still restricted by her smallclothes only being pulled down to the middle of her thighs. She lowers her head to the soft material of the couch and waits._

_Jon's hand hasn't stopped gliding over her backside but now his fingers follow the curve downwards until they reach the wet heat of her cunny. Sansa arches her hips and groans into the couch as he sinks his fingers through her slick folds._

That is normally when she wakes very suddenly, on her front, face buried into her pillow. She sometimes catches the tail-end of her groan and has deduced that it is her own noises waking her up.

No, she will not tell him this - even as she snatches looks at his lap as he seats himself on the couch or gets fully distracted by his large hands. She cannot tell him this.

Sansa had been experiencing the dreams on and off for seven months when Howland Reed left The Neck for the first time in many years to visit King Jon at Winterfell. He brings with him some important information.

Not two months later a thought flitters through Sansa's mind - Perhaps she will tell him of her dreams after all, as she begins to unpick her new embroidery of a dragon and her hands threaten to launch another hoop across the room.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This bonus chapter is especially for Casema who has been so kind to me in all her comments on my fics! 
> 
> I really hope you all enjoy this one :)

__When it happens Jon is caught completely by surprise - a delightful surprise that refuses to stop replaying in his mind as he walks the halls, eats his meals and sees to his own pleasure locked away in his chambers.

The devilish part of his mind wants to re-enact that night and coax a bit more from Sansa's drink induced sleepy lips..... or ask her what it all meant...could he really ask her that?

Currently caught up in his daydream, as he sits alone at his writing desk, his parchment bare from even the faintest scratch of ink and his cock hard and begging for attention, he replays that night, one week past, over in his mind once more.

Both Sansa and Jon had visited the nearest Free Folk camp, invited by the elders to make merriment after it had been confirmed that winter was rapidly being chased away by spring.

Jon had warned her about the fermented goats milk being passed around freely - she heeded his advice at first but his deviously persuasive friend Tormund won her round eventually.

Three drinks in and his lovely lady cousin was hiccuping, giggling and being taught a vulgar Wildling song. She sat - or rather fell - on Jon's lap in hysterics before nuzzling into his neck and playing with his hands - seemingly mesmerised by them. She hiccuped once more, and although he could not deny he liked the feel of Sansa warm, soft and tactile against him, he needed to get her back to Winterfell to sleep off the goats milk.

"And where do you think you're going"? He called as Sansa somewhat stumbled towards her mare.

"To mount my horse"? Sansa replied with knotted brows, swaying a little as she gestured weakly towards her steed.

"Oh no you don't!... you'll tumble off the thing as soon as you're atop it Sansa... I've never seen you so drunk!...you'll ride with me". Jon replied sternly.

Sansa pushed her hands to her hips. "I am not that drunk Jo- _hiccup_ " her hand flew to her mouth before letting out a delightful giggle. Jon arched one brow and wore an amused grin.

"Alright! Alright! I'll ride you"

"What"?!

"I said I'll ride with you... you'll have to help me to mount though Jon - you've got a big beast" Sansa babbled.

Jon's face already felt heated from visions of being ridden by Sansa - her silky hair cascading over her shoulders and pert perfect breasts, bouncing as she locked eyes with him and moaned his name.

"Jon....Jon...JON"! Sansa's voice broke him out of his pleasant daydream. "Where did you go"? She giggled as she waved a hand in front of his dazed face "it must have been somewhere nice, you looked positively - _hiccup_ \- enraptured".

Jon cleared his throat "I...erm...sorry...what did you say"? He mumbled, shifting his feet and tugging his tunic down, trying to hide his rapidly tightening breeches.

Sansa shook her head at him. "Just help me up - _hiccup_ \- Yourrr Graaace" she mock curtsied too low and wobbled on her feet, laughing as Jon steadied her with both hands on her waist.

Jon liked the little squeak Sansa made as he lifted her onto his horse and the contented sigh that escaped her soft lips when he wrapped his arms around her from behind to keep her in place. Then there was her apparent fascination with his hands again as she traced delightfully ticklish patterns upon them with her fingers as he grasped at the reigns.

"Do you ever have strange dreams Jon"? Sansa asked suddenly, her question halting her previous comfortable humming.

"What sort of strange dreams"? Jon enquired warily. She couldn't know the sort of visions that dance across his closed eyelids at night - blue eyes, bare breasts, red hair, breathy moans and long legs wrapped around him in a vice like grip.

Sansa leant her head back onto his shoulder, not able to contain a girlish giggle, the sound going straight Jon's cock.

"I can't tell you" she answered in a sultry teasing whisper.

"You could" Jon murmured close to her ear feeling bold and intrigued. He felt Sansa shiver against him and wondered if it had anything to do with the chill in the night air.

"Well........." Sansa paused, searching for her words " _hiccup_.... no...no... I can't" she laughed into her fingertips.

The rest of the ride was terribly quiet. Jon helped Sansa stagger to her chambers and was about to leave to call for her maid to assist Sansa to her bed when she bid him to stay.

"Aye, I'll stay a while - but only if you drink some water... it'll help your head in the morning... trust me".

Sansa rolled her eyes but conceded, gulping down one and then two cups from her pitcher.

They spent a little time comfortably talking of nonsense and happy memories with one another. Somehow, Jon ended up sat at one end of the couch with Sansa sprawled out on the rest, using his thigh to cushion her head.

He was brushing his fingers through her silky hair, draping it over the rest of his lap - unaware of when he had started the action and quite mesmerised by it. Every now and again Sansa would let out a contented breathy sigh that would make him smile and rake his fingers through her locks once more. They'd never been this comfortably familiar with each other and Jon lamented the fact that it took drink to do so.

The first indication that he and Sansa had fallen asleep there in front of the fire, had been when he was awoken by movement on his leg accompanied by a low 'mmmm' sound.

Lifting his lagging head and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he slowly became aware of where he was.

"Mmmmm Jon" came Sansa's moan, piercing the night air.

Jon glanced down at her head in his lap, her hair still splayed across it like spilt liquid. He leant over her as she was laid on her side, facing away from him - she was asleep.

_Sleep talking?_

"Yes....harder" she commanded in a sleepy tone. Jon's mouth went dry.

He watched as she arched her back deliciously and one of her hands cupped her breast over her bodice.

"Jon" Sansa sighed before letting out a quiet sensual gasp. "I'll be a good girl for you".

Her words were exhilaratingly tantalising but equally torturous. She was dreaming of him - is this what she was referring to earlier that night? Jon's heart leapt and his hard cock throbbed now that he knew how Sansa felt - but did he really know? This is just a dream she was having - it might mean nothing at all. Even if it did, he was not privy to the exact contents of the dream... although judging by what he'd heard, he had a reasonable guess.

"Touch me please my King"

_Oh Gods!_

********

Over the next week Sansa had showed no signs of being privy to the words she had let slip in her sleep.

Jon tried and tried to forget her gasps, moans and the way her mouth caressed his name. It was futile if course. So what was he to do now? How could he approach the subject?

He pondered procuring some more Wildling goats milk to see what he could coax from Sansa's loosened lips, but this felt devious and wrong. He couldn't do that to her.

Drumming his fingers across his unmarked parchment, Jon was at a loss. He let out a long exhale before closing his eyes and unlacing his breeches to take himself in hand once more while replaying Sansa's words...

_I'll be a good girl for you._

_Touch me please my King._

*******

"Do you ever have strange dreams"? Jon blurted out to Sansa one afternoon, parroting her drunken query when he could stand it no more. They were meant to be looking over newly arrived missives in their shared solar. He himself had not read one single word of the letter in front of him, instead opting to watch Sansa's stunning crystal eyes scan her report, her lips sometimes silently wrapping themselves around the written words - Jon could think of better words and noises for her pretty mouth.

Sansa looked up at him startled and Jon watched as her cheeks quickly turned red - surely to match his own flush.

"What...what do you mean"?

Jon shifted in his seat. "I...I don't know..."

He DID know and he cursed himself - he also knew that it would be completely unfair to expect Sansa to admit to any feelings on her part without first revealing his own.

"Dreams of a....a...carnal...nature"?He gulped and looked away briefly, his gaze returning to see Sansa's eyes wide, her mouth hung open a little as her blush increased and crept tantalisingly down her neck and chest to disappear into her bodice. How he wanted to chase that blush with his tongue. Jon gulped again.

"....I.....I...." Sansa's mouth made shocked noises and then closed along with her eyes, trying to compose herself. "Do you"? She asked, her eyes now opening again.

"Yes"

Sansa's brows knotted slightly at his answer and Jon knew he would need to elaborate. Taking a deep measured breath, he continued on to say perhaps the most terrifying thing he'd ever confessed to in such a long time.

"They always contain you....Sansa" he breathed.

Jon was sure he heard her let out a small squeak as he witnessed Sansa coyly bite on her lower lip to contain any further noises escaping.

"What happens?.....in your dreams"? She whispered after a long pause.

Jon cleared his throat if nothing more than to give himself time to think. What information should he impart to her? Which of his many dreams would be less frightening to her in its lustful ferocity?

"...I....ah..." Jon stammered as his eyes darted about the room looking for a non-existent escape from the conversation he himself started. He took a deep inhale while rubbing at the back of his neck. "We.....you let me touch you..." Jon licked his lips "....as a man does his wife".

Sansa's grip on the armrest of her chair intensified, her eyes fluttered closed momentarily "...and?..." she urged, a little breathlessly.

"And you like it" he licks his lips once more.

Sansa looks down to her lap but Jon notices how her chest is rising and falling hard against the top of her bodice.

"Do you ever have...strange dreams like that Sansa"? He asked, his voice thick with both suggestion and trepidation.

She stares at him for what seems like too long before answering, causing him to shift in his chair. Sansa's eyes go to his hands where they are clasped together in front of him, resting on top of his desk as Jon leans forward, eager for her answer.

"Perhaps" she croaked. There is another pause before Sansa stands suddenly, the parchment she had been reading falling to the floor as her hands frantically smooth her skirts "I....I have to go, I'm meant to be meeting with Maester Tarly....about some new tomes he needs for the library".

And with that, Sansa flurried out of the room, the door shutting softly on her way out, leaving Jon alone.

_Shit._

***********

Jon had not seen Sansa for the rest of the day, she had not attended the afternoon council meeting, instead sending one of her maids with an apology and excuse of ill health. She had not joined him in the hall for supper either.

His fears gripped him as he sat against the headboard of the expansive and lonely bed in Lord's chambers.

_I've pushed her too far. Scared her. She'll never be able to look at me again._

Resolving himself to the fact that he shall have to apologise to Sansa in the morrow and try to regain some semblance of the easy friendship they entertained before, Jon found it hard to let sleep claim him. He knew he'd need to squash and temper his own urges and feelings towards his cousin, control them so that they would not interfere any further with their happy existence. He'd managed so well this far - damn that night and her sleep talking.

The soft click of his chamber door closing broke him from his internal woes, Jon instantly reached for Longclaw but froze when he saw her.

"Sansa"? He questioned the tempting vision before him, half believing that he had slipped into a dream.

"Jon....I..." she started, stood before him in her night robe, loosely tied, her hair a little messier than he was used to seeing. Jon slipped from the bed, mouth slightly agape before he shook his head and took his chance to make amends.

"I must apologise for my behaviour earlier.... I did not want to make you uncomfortable with the conversat-" Jon's words died in his throat as Sansa took a few purposeful strides and stood before him. He need not exert himself to reach out and touch her, she was that close. His hands twitched at his sides.

"I have them too" Sansa whispered up to his face, peeking at him through her lashes. "Strange dreams.... about you" she added, so quietly that Jon barely heard her. He gulped.

"What happens... in your dreams"? He asked hoarsely.

"You punish me.... my King". Sansa whispered.

Jon's brows furrowed "punish you"?

Sansa nodded slowly. "You....strike me....on my bared flesh".

Jon's throat went dry, his pulse quickened and he felt his blood heat as he only just now realised that he was clad in nothing but his loosely tied sleeping breeches - Sansa's eyes falling upon the rapid tenting occurring below his waist.

"And....and then you touch my..." she continued, quickly licking her lips and tearing her eyes away from Jon's cock to meet his own "my.....".

"Your cunt"? He almost whined. Sansa swallowed thickly and nodded. They stared hungrily at each other in silence for a while before Jon continued in an uncertain voice. "Do you want me to.....punish you Sansa"?

Jon watched as the corners of her rosy lips curved upwards ever so slightly before she turned on her heels and padded away. He wore a face of confusion and fear until Sansa untied her robe and let it slide from around her shoulders. Looking back at Jon with a wicked glint in her eye, she lifted the hem of her nightrail to her waist and bent herself over his writing desk.

Jon felt a ragged, primal noise leave him as he took in the sight before him. Sansa wore only stockings on her lower half - no smallclothes. Her milky flesh set out for him to devour. Her white stockings featured little pale blue satin bows at the backs of her thighs - as if she were wrapped like a gift.

_And what a gift._

Jon wasn't aware that he was moving towards her until he was close enough that he could see the lips of her cunny peeking out from between her thighs. Jon groaned as he saw quite clearly that she was already glistening with anticipation.

"Are you sure that you want me to do this Sansa"? He asked, closing his eyes from the sight before him as he breathed heavily.

"Please my King" Sansa whimpered as she looked back at him over her shoulder and swayed her hips a little.

Two quick long strides and he was directly behind her. "I don't want to hurt you" Jon rasped, pushing his swollen cock against her soft behind, not being able to keep his hands from smoothing over her naked curves.

Closing her eyes as she shivered in Jon's touch, Sansa answered him in a whisper - "please Jon" she said, rolling her hips back into his pelvis and rubbing herself against him.

Jon gripped her hips, guiding the tantalising friction she was causing. He stepped back ever so slightly, making Sansa whine until the sound of his first smack to her buttock was accompanied with her moan.

It was thrilling feeling - not that he wanted to hurt her but that she wanted him to be so dominant with her. Her flesh started to pink before he struck her other cheek. Sansa yelped and jolted forwards on the desk. Before Jon had a chance to apologise she spurred him on -

"Yes! Harder"!

A few more strikes and she was red and quivering. Jon started stroking the affected areas before he began to use his lips and tongue, kissing and licking away her hurt. Sansa's breath hitched and she grasped at the papers on his desk, scrunching them in her hands.

Before he knew it he was knelt at her cunny, licking into her from behind, one hand still smoothing over her round rear, the other rubbing her pearl. She tasted unlike anything he'd ever tried before - sweet but with a slight tang. Gods! He hoped she was enjoying this as much as he was!

As if hearing his thoughts, Sansa began moving her hips back and forth, rubbing her cunny over his mouth and releasing low throaty moans in amongst sighing his name.

Her cries and movements grew more fevered and urgent and Jon knew it wouldn't be long until she peaked - he felt close to spilling in his breeches himself at the prospect of her doing so on his face.

He felt a extra amount of wetness greet his tongue. Sansa's loud calls of his name signalling her coming apart as he lapped up every last bit of her.

After a small while of panting atop his desk, her hairline sweaty and sticking to her face, Sansa began to giggle.

"We never get to that part in my dreams" she tells him as he stands up behind her "I wake up very frustrated every time" she chuckles.

Lifting her head to look back at him, she somehow manages to grin and bite her lip at the same time.

"Tell me more about YOUR dreams Jon".

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not wanting to get into a debate about Sansa not being into the whole spanking thing because of her past experiences - this is just a bit of fun ;) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


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